


ILYSB

by aypreal



Series: Otayuri: A Playlist [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Cut Short, Friends to Lovers, Insecurity, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Otabek Altin/Mila Babicheva - Freeform, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, So much angst, The whole story exists where being gay is legal eeeeveerrryyywhhheeerrreeee, VictUuri, Yuri's POV, Yuribek, artist!yuri, babies in love, ballet dancer!yuri, bands mentioned, cute love, dj!otabek, fashion designer!yuri, like he has a lot of thoughts, musician!otabek, otayuri - Freeform, this kid has gone through so much, trigger warning, youtuber!otabek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-18 05:57:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9371123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aypreal/pseuds/aypreal
Summary: The excuse was; the last available flight from Kazakhstan to Moscow was three days before the main show, the 2017 Spring Fashion Week, the next flight was a day after the closing of the season. Someone must have played a joke and somehow misrouted all the planes for the Kazakhstan-Moscow route. Then of course, given that it was crowded for the Moscow Fashion week, all hotels were booked and Yuri was one of the higher staffs under Viktor that doesn’t have any partners nor family members staying with him. So as courtesy for the imported DJ, Yuri was tasked to host the man who will bring the music to Viktor’s schemes. Otabek Altin.Beka — if Yuri still had the right to call him that after ditching him with nothing three years ago.





	1. BLIND

He was fucked up.

 

Everything was a fucking mess and Yuri wasn’t sure on how to proceed. His bed was comfy and his himalayan cat, Sasha was curled up beside him. On a regular night, the softness of his sheets and Sasha’s sleepy sounds were enough to lull him to sleep. 

 

But not tonight.

 

Yuri Plisetsky wasn’t known for his selflessness. He was known to be the aggressive, selfish asshole who does not give a shit to anyone — but joke’s on him, now he can’t help but overthink if the guest who was sleeping on his fold out couch in the living room was comfortable or not. The couch was only a year and a couple of months old so it should still be okay to sleep on, right? He doesn’t use it much. Only when his grandfather visits or when he felt like relaxing on a surface that can accommodate the stretch of his limbs and technically still not his traditional bed. Was the temperature okay? It’s not hot and it was cool enough for Yuri to wrap himself up with his duvet — but what about his guest though?

 

To be perfectly honest, it wasn’t Yuri’s fault. In fact, most of the shit that went on recently was, and more likely, will be caused by the disgusting lovebirds. 

 

One half of the pair, Viktor Nikiforov was his boss, at least legally. _Nikiforov_ is a brand that set fire to Yuri’s gift as a fashion designer. The one thing that pulled him up when he hit rock bottom when he was seventeen. There was something with the designs, the artistry that inspired him and once upon a time, Yuri might have admitted that Viktor, owner and founder of the _Nikiforov_ line was his idol. The man was grace, passion and charisma personified — traits that Yuri yearned to have. Wanted to be.

 

So he picked up his disregarded sketch books and pencils and began sketching. He was frustrated for a long time, never figuring out what Viktor had that he lacked that made him birthing into clothing that people fought to have and claim. 

 

Anyway, for some miracle, he got into the art school that Viktor frequented and somehow, was offered the rare opportunity to intern for the man himself. Viktor helped him a lot; not only on his designs but also assisted in controlling the black hole that was in his chest. A black hole that seemed to never stop growing. Of course, his grandfather was there and then Viktor came in. For some reason, the man took it upon himself to stand as Yuri’s unneeded father figure. 

 

Everything was going fine by the time Yuri hit eighteen. 

 

Then the other half of the pair came in.

 

The _Katsudon_ , Yuuri Katsuki was the whirlwind that messed everything. An unannounced trip to Japan caused chaos in the PR team for the _Nikiforov_ line and somehow Yuri’s unexpected debut set. Viktor was suddenly gone and the young blonde was asked to finish the set that Viktor failed to finish. It was only a month before the Winter Fashion Week started in Russia and the line was without their head designer. Everything was fucked up. 

 

Everything was _fucked up_ only because Viktor finally saw his muse. A chubby Japanese man who’s video got viral when the fashion fans decided to tag it to Viktor. It was only a video of him walking down a deserted shore. Strutting Viktor’s clothes under a gloomy sky and possibly freezing water if Yuri can say anything to it. There was passion on his walk and emotion on his eyes and possibly enough drama for one Viktor Nikiforov to board the next available private jet to Japan and abandon his Winter Season to get to a… _A pig_. 

 

It announced Yuri’s first Season as a designer and the line still sold — but it was rushed and not enough for Yuri’s expectations. Then the fashion industry was all over the new cinderella story the moment Viktor returned with his muse in tow, minus the chubby cheeks and squishy belly. Apparently, when he was working his ass off to save Viktor’s neglected line, the man himself trained the Japanese into a catwalk worthy piece of man flesh and doubled the training as wooing, because not only did he return to the Fashion World with a muse but also fiancé. The next thing Yuri knew was that every magazine and newspaper that covered the _Nikiforov_ line had the other Yuuri’s face and he was always either opening or closing the fashion shows.  

 

Eventually, Yuri’s hatred to the _Katsudon’s_ turned into tolerance, to camaraderie then affection.

 

Because a year later, Viktor is still leading the Fashion Industry with a never ending joy that somehow also mellowed Yuri’s grudge. No one can deny the fact that Yuuri was good for Viktor. Not even the angry fairy that was Yuri Plisetsky. 

 

Fairy because the people saw him as the magical being that saved Viktor’s ass. 

 

Perhaps it was the affection to the Katsuki-Nikiforov couple that brought him to this mess. 

 

Perhaps it was his own lack of insistence that fucked him. He could have looked for more available flights, or even hotel rooms if he knew he would end up in this mess — turning and groaning at the thought of who was sleeping on his fold out coach just outside of his bedroom.

 

The excuse was; the last available flight from Kazakhstan to Moscow was three days before the main show, the 2017 Spring Fashion Week, the next flight was _a day_ after the closing of the season. Someone must have played a joke and somehow misrouted all the planes for the Kazakhstan-Moscow route. Then of course, given that it was crowded for the Moscow Fashion week, all hotels were booked and Yuri was one of the higher staffs under Viktor that doesn’t have any partners nor family members staying with him. So as courtesy for the imported DJ, Yuri was tasked to host the man who will bring the music to Viktor’s schemes. Otabek Altin.

 

_Beka_ — if Yuri still had the right to call him that after ditching him with nothing three years ago. 

 

Cutting off the friendship he had with Otabek was one of the painful experiences Yuri had. And considering his mental and emotional barriers, the list of those experiences were fairly short.

 

In the three years they were apart, Yuri was busy rebuilding himself that he never really researched about Otabek online. Anything can be found online if you dig deep enough even for someone who wasn’t really known for socialisation like the Kazakh, Yuri knew that. But he never searched for his name in all of his social media forms. Otabek Altin was both a distraction and an inspiration for Yuri. He had spent days day dreaming their reunion. 

 

He liked to pretend that Otabek will be the one to offer the reconstruction of their ruined friendship but in the darkness of his bedroom and hearing the noise of his thoughts, Yuri would end up imagining himself crying and begging Beka to forgive him. After all, he was the one who refused help and let go. 

 

And damn it, he does regret it.  Otabek was the best friend he took for granted.

 

He imagined them bumping each other on a busy Russian street like those cliche romance movies that Viktor and the Katsudon like to drown themselves with or, a sudden text or email from an unknown number and suddenly Otabek was back in his life because a jackass can’t keep Yuri’s number to himself. He made up scenarios on his head worthy an Oscar Best Picture Award and yet Yuri never anticipated it was going to be like this.

 

Him, anxious in his bedroom and half mad in his overthinking if Otabek was really comfortable in that old fold out couch. 

 

Who would have thought anyway?

 

Who would have thought that Otabek is a rising youtube star known for his music. Apparently, he deejays  a lot. He has been invited to a lot of music festivals now, produced tracks for local and indie artists alike and even uploaded his music into the internet for the world to enjoy in random days. They basically had almost the same number of followers in instagram although the number of posts definitely differs. 

 

And not only that, he was offered label deals numerous times — but _Beka, his Beka_ refused them all. An interview uploaded in the search engine explained that the Kazakh was contented with his audience. He was not famous to be mobbed in a street but he was a name reckoned by music lovers enough that in a week, he will be asked for a photograph or an autograph once or twice. His music and videos were paying his bills and that was okay for him. 

 

Otabek, unlike Yuri was never aggressive in his ambitions. They were more or less, opposite poles in both appearance and personality, and yet when he offered his friendship to a fifteen year old Yuri, the blonde was ecstatic. 

 

And he ruined it. With that depressing thought, he recalled what happened earlier…

 

He was scowling at Viktor when he barged into Yuri’s living space while his husband stayed outside to await Yuri’s house guest for the upcoming few days. “Why can’t he stay with you guys?” Yuri wanted to yell that, but Sasha was curled up on his lap and he didn’t want to scare her away so he settled with underlining his hatred of the situation in every word he said. “I might have contributed a set for this Season but it’s your line! Shouldn’t it be your responsibility to house that fucking DJ?”

 

Viktor dramatically shook his head on Yuri’s words, acting like the father figure he liked to think of himself when it came to Yuri. “But Yurio —”

 

“My name is not Yurio!”

 

“ _Yurio_.” Boy, he might be looking at Yuri with a straight face filled with mocking reproach but dammit, the blonde was not fooled. “As my prodigy and my son —” Yuri seriously wanted to yell. “It is your duty to house the legendary _Kiro_.” Ah yes. Kiro was Otabek’s stage name. “I believe he’s closer to your age than mine or my beloved husband.”

 

Yuri wasn’t stupid. He knew that it was one of Viktor’s sly schemes of friendship matchmaking. He loved to pit Yuri against people and guess if they are the best match for the Russian Fairy or not.  Yuri liked watching him fail —liked watching the retreating backs of the people thrown against him only to give up when he bare his teeth and hiss. 

 

Then on and on about the excuses on why he needed to house this _Kiro_ before he walked back to get the door when the sound of knocking echoed in the room. Viktor left to open the door and Yuri was left in petting Sasha.

 

He heard rustling behind him and suddenly Viktor was talking about manners and Yuri was rolling his eyes before settling Sasha in his arms when she refused to be moved into the couch. 

 

It felt like time slowed down. 

 

He was turning and at first he caught sight of the black outfit because checking out clothes was instinct for him. It was his job. Then it settled to the not-so-bulky duffel bag on his house guest’s left hand before he raised a brow at the case that probably housed a musical instrument. His eyes scan through a black hoodie clad torso, shoulders that were wrapped in used leather, the sun-kissed skin of his neck before he realised that he was looking at a familiar face. 

 

The hair was now styled in an undercut famous to men and women alike in the world unlike the unruly mess of curls he had when he was eighteen and Yuri was fifteen. His eyes though — they were as sharp and as wise and as guarded as the day Yuri first met Otabek Altin.

 

It was one summer, during one of the art camps he attended. He was in ballet and Otabek was the cool kid who was advanced in the guitar and piano division of the camp. He was a quiet kid and yet girls and boys flocked to him either begging for his attention or asking for tips to be as better as him. Meanwhile, Yuri was the best in his class. The teacher’s favourite. 

 

They were both talented and yet Yuri did not have the same attention Otabek had with his own peers. Yuri was too feminine for the boys and the girls found him annoying because of his hair and how far his splits go. So he was the lone cub, never mind that they were all undergoing puberty. 

 

But out of the selection though, Otabek managed to corner Yuri one campfire night and shower him with his friendship. A gift nobody was able to get in the duration of the camp. 

 

They were a good pair and everybody respected their friendship and gave distance. He listened when Yuri talked or ranted. He offered to play songs while Yuri practiced or simply was in the mood for stretching or sketching. Yuri had pages upon pages of sketches of Otabek in his sketchbooks during that summer. And when the camp came into an end and Yuri had to go back to Moscow and Beka to his parents in Kazakhstan, they had given each other all the contact information they had.

 

They would chat and text and do video calls. Then the cycle would restart every summer.

 

It continued for two summers before Yuri cut all contacts with Otabek and stopped attending the  camp altogether. He cut the first, genuine friendship he had.

 

He had numerous reasons why he did that, and yet he still felt undeserving when Otabek offered him a reluctant smile and a “Hi, Yura. It’s been a long time.”

 

_It’s been a long time indeed._ He thought, followed by a, _why are you calling me Yura when I don’t deserve it?_

 

He rolled to lay on his stomach and watched the dark, midnight blue glow of the curtains as the window welcomed the light of dawn. Great, he didn’t get a wink of sleep.

 

“Beka.” He whispered but based on the silence in between the four of them, it sure felt like a bomb exploding. _Where are the punches? The questions?_ Dammit, the drama is rubbing off on him. 

 

“You know each other?” The Katsudon asked and Beka answered with a history that wasn’t a far cry from the reality of their past. It was all about how _Yuri and I attended the same summer camp. I was in the musical division and he was in the movement team - ballet to be exact._

 

Then Katsudon was asking about how he didn’t know they had history before turning to his husband if this was part of a scheme? Viktor didn’t know of course. And he said as much to his husband. But there was a question in his eyes and Yuri wasn’t ready to answer that. So he turned to leave for the kitchen, asking if anyone’s having tea.

 

Like a typhoon, Viktor was back on his jolly self, lifting the awkward atmosphere that was about to start. He praised Yuri for suddenly growing manners and provided instructions to Otabek regarding his things. He also provided an apology about the lack of accommodations and of course Otabek didn’t mind. He was one of the kindest souls Yuri met. 

 

He served the tea and he was forced to sit down in tension as the couple asked Otabek about his travels, the music festivals he attended and even the artists he assisted. He felt gazes on him at one point or another. He was nervous when it was from either the lovebirds but he would never live down the fact that his cheeks burned when his and Otabek’s eyes met across the coffee table. At least Sasha was a good support for she finally woke up from her nap to play with his fingers. The feline gave him enough excuse to not really participate in the conversation. 

 

The hard part was the couple leaving. 

 

He was never the dependent type but he’d rather face them than face Otabek. 

 

Maybe that’s when the punches and the questions would come in. Once the couple left.

 

Yuuri hugged him tight, and for a second, he didn’t want to let go. Then Viktor was doing the same and they were so perceptive  about the noise in his head that he was just grateful. “Will you be okay?” Yuuri was acting like a mom he never asked for, it could have been Viktor’s influence but with the earthquake that wrecked his evening, Yuri can’t bring himself into a rant. He only nodded. 

 

“Talk to us, okay? Or meet us in the venue tomorrow. We’ll be there early.” They usually meet around eleven in the morning to supervise the preparation for the catwalk. They were all hands on. Again, he nodded before he felt them pull away and he watched their retreating backs and the Katsudon was asking his husband if it was alright for them to leave Yuri with someone who made him uncomfortable. 

 

He sighed at their overly concerned antics as he closed the door and turned back to face the mess.

 

In the living room, Otabek was still sitting on the couch and for some reason, having a staring contest with his cat. Sasha wasn’t really fond of strangers in her domain, “Is she making you uncomfortable?” _Am I making you uneasy?_

 

Otabek looked at him and there was a rawness in his eyes that Yuri can’t identify. “No. I kind of spaced out and she’s very pretty to look at.” Yuri wanted to ask if it was an excuse to not look at him. He would understand if Beka would look at him like the dirt underneath his shoe. But Beka didn’t. He wasn’t that much of a firecracker when it was his emotions he was messing with. “What’s her name?” Otabek asked.

 

“Sasha.” With that one worded answer, it seems Otabek was also stuck in the awkward situation they were in. “Um… You know, if this makes you uncomfortable I can always leave. Perhaps —”

 

“No!” Yuri said it in a hurry and he felt his cheeks go warm because of it. “It’s fine.” He moved to move the coffee table instead so he can start playing off as the good host. Otabek, bless him, helped in moving the table then it was the couch they were transforming into a make shift bed. Yuri hurried to get some extra pillows and another duvet. “Are you sure you’re okay with this arrangement?” Otabek asked after they straightened everything. 

 

“I should be asking that. With the money Viktor has, I’m quite surprised he can’t bribe a hotel into giving you a room —”

 

“Yura, you know that’s not what I meant.” Again, with that look. 

 

They stared each other down. Waiting each other out. 

 

Sasha was rubbing herself on his leg and yet… Yet…

 

Yuri broke it off. His heart was pounding so much and he just can’t. Otabek was a good friend, the best and after he let go of him, Yuri understood that he also lost the right on really calling him as his best friend. He picked his cat up.

 

“Yuri…”

 

“The bathroom should be down that hall, first door to your left. There’s also food in the kitchen, help yourself out — goodnight.” 

 

_He was so stupid._ He stomped a leg on his bed and suddenly Sasha jumped. “Don’t do that.” He said to the glaring cat eyes focused on him, “It’s not like it’s you who’s undergoing an emotional turmoil there.” Sasha just whipped her tail up high and turned to leave the bedroom — probably to look for a bed that doesn’t have a confused owner. 

 

Great, the midnight blue glow that was being blocked by his curtains earlier has turned into a warm gold — it was officially morning now. _Might as well face the music._ Yuri sighed before stretching an arm to unplug the charger to look at his phone. 

 

There were at least three emails and five text messages from his PA informing him about his set for the fashion show, status and all. Two messages from the Katsudon asking if he had a good night sleep - he scoffed at that, some sleep he had. Another recent text message from the same man informing him that Viktor was needed at the venue earlier than anticipated and that he was welcome to join them if he wanted.

 

He didn’t reply, Yuri just let his phone drop on the mattress before closing his eyes. He didn’t want to get up. He wanted to stay in bed and hide beneath his duvet for good measure. Getting up would mean having to face Otabek. Facing Otabek would mean acknowledging his faults and having to welcome back the feelings that he buried when he let go of his friend.

 

A sound came through.

 

Usually any noise at that time of the morning meant trouble. It meant that Sasha found something and decided that it wasn’t worthy her presence and sent the object flying. But the sound was different. It was the sound of gentle strings that pulled him back to lazy camp days where Beka played with his guitar as Yuri either stretch his limbs further or sketched. He listened to it for awhile, tried his best to not think about the tension between them and just enjoy the music. 

 

Yuri wanted to pretend that what was between them was years of friendship instead of three years of silence. And in those three years, a lot of things happened. Like the shit they talked about during one of their video chats before. 

 

_Let’s go travel Beka._ He would say and of course Otabek agreed. And perhaps that friendship would evolve into something else. _The something_ that really fucked him up three years before. It was confusing and nerve wrecking to suddenly get up one morning thinking he wanted more from Beka. 

 

_I wanted more from him._ This was Yuri Plisetsky — he never asked for more from anyone. 

 

He sat up and lazily gathered the waterfall of blonde locks into a half-assed ponytail. It reached his waist now. Five fucking years of care. 

 

He was lucky that his bedroom had its own bathroom. Yuri didn’t have to go out looking like shit — never mind that he already felt like shit. 

 

After his rituals, Yuri found himself in front of his bedroom door, breathing deeply. He could still hear the guitar strings and a soft voice accompaniment. With all of his flourish, Yuri found himself tiptoeing. He quietly opened and closed the bedroom door. It seems that Otabek was about to start a new song or about to repeat the song, the sound has the same melody as the one Yuri heard when he first acknowledge the fact the Otabek was playing with his guitar. 

 

_I was young but I wasn’t naive,_

_I watched helpless as he turned around to leave…_

 

_After all this time_

_I never thought we’d be here_

_Never thought we’d be here_

_When my love for you was blind_

 

His bedroom was hidden in a corner and so Yuri can peak without getting caught. Otabek was sitting by the window seat, guitar on his lap and his voice was amplified by the walls. Sasha wasn’t goofing around like Yuri expected her to get with a stranger in the house. Instead she was laying down facing Otabek, wholly focused on him like his sole purpose was to give her entertainment.

 

The sight pulled the corners of Yuri’s lips and again, he wanted to pretend that Otabek and him we’re okay. That the sight was an everyday occurrence. That them in an apartment together was normal.

 

_But I couldn’t make you see it_

_Couldn’t make you see it_

_That I loved you more than you’ll ever know_

_A part of me died when I let you go_

 

The song was painful and relatable enough that Yuri wanted it off. He didn’t want to acknowledge the feelings he tried to bury when he was younger — still trying to bury. He didn’t want to think of those feelings when the object of his affection was very much with him at the moment. Easier to reach, easier to confess to. 

 

_But what if Beka feels the same?_ He thought. What if the song was an interpretation of what Otabek really felt for him? 

 

No, of course not. _That’s impossible. Stop overthinking asshole._

 

The pause on strings and the heavenly voice pulled Yuri back. When he peaked to see what happened for Otabek to stop, he saw him leaning over, petting Sasha’s fluffy head. 

 

_That traitor!_ Yuri thought, again his cat was not fond of strangers. And yet, she let Otabek pet her like she was used to his compromise after entertaining her with music. She even rubbed herself on his palm. “You remind me so much of your owner.” Yuri heard Otabek whisper and dammit if that didn’t make his heart jump.

 

He cleared his throat, and presented himself, “It’s too early for you to be up, did you even sleep?” He asked. Yuri looked around instead of looking at Otabek for his answer. The couch was folded again and the coffee table was back to its original place — pillows and duvet neatly arranged. “Was it too uncomfortable that you weren’t able to get some sleep?” Hell, he might as well just ask him.

 

“No. Jetlag.” Otabek smiled like he finally made peace with the awkwardness that will follow them for the next few days. “Did I wake you up? I’m sorry if I was too noisy.”

 

_No, you sounded great for someone who put my emotions in a fucking blender._ “Not really. I woke up when I felt Sasha was no longer in bed. I thought she terrorised you with her feline wrath.” Of course they both knew it was a lie but that was better than nothing. 

 

“She was a fair audience.” He leaned to pet her again but Sasha was already on her way to Yuri to let him know it was time for hear morning meal. 

 

“Don’t let her fool you.” Yuri reached down to gather her in his arms. “She tends to behave so that when the time comes she wants something from you, you won’t be able to deny her anything — anyway, coffee or tea?” He was already on his way to the kitchen not even waiting for Otabek’s reply. The same way he ran away the night before.

 

“Tea please.” Seems like Otabek put down his guitar to follow him in the kitchen as well. “You have a really nice place here Yuri. When did you move out from your grandfather?” Yuri made sure that Sasha was eating her breakfast before he started on anything to feed Otabek and himself. And it felt so domestic, if only they were not throwing around catch-up questions.

 

“I was seventeen, I think. I was already working for Viktor’s line. You won’t mind some sausages and omelettes right?” Yuri asked again as he opened his fridge to get the necessary ingredients, his back to Otabek who was now sitting on one of the stools by the island. 

 

“I won’t be saying no even if you serve cereals Yuri.” He didn’t reply to that, only continued with his work on the stove and pan. He didn’t want to think too much. Didn’t want to let out anything that might bring the awkwardness back — this, Yuri can do. “When did you learn to cook?” It was such an unexpected question that Yuri had to look back with a raised brow.

 

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” Rude. _Fuck._ It was his default setting, Yuri can’t help it. Otabek just smiled and there was a certain amount of playfulness on it that Yuri softened for a bit. “You were so picky with your food before, and now you’re making food like you were cooking all your life.”

 

Yuri thought about it. He leaned on the counter beside the stove as he let the food cook. “I had to learn. Take out was beginning to taste like shit and I could only survive a couple of meals with the lovebirds without wanting to stab my own eyes because all they do is that mushy, gross - married shit. They don’t even have the decency that normal couples have! And you’d think that they would tone it down in the office and be professional, but noooo — I’m talking too much…”

 

He can’t really rant to anyone else because everyone else was blinded by the gross marriage the Katsuki-Nikiforov have. 

 

They were supposed to be awkward and yet there he was, ranting to Otabek like they didn’t spent the last three years not being part of each other’s lives. 

 

_He makes it so easy._ Yuri thought. “No. No, go ahead. I like listening to you.” The words _And to hear what I missed these last couple of years,_ were unsaid. Yuri turned his back to get back to their meal. The omelette was almost done and tea was still brewing. 

 

Before he could stop himself, he was already talking.

 

“You spent hours before listening to me. Aren’t you tired of just listening to me?” 

 

“We spent three years not talking Yura.” A pause, “Indulge me.”

 

He couldn’t deny Beka anything. 

 


	2. Current Location

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reason why Yuri shut down three years ago. Suicide is mentioned.

They ended up talking the entire duration of their breakfast. Otabek made it so easy for Yuri to get back on track. They talked about basically everything they could think of without getting close to the topic of Yuri’s major antic three years ago.

 

Otabek talked about his youtube channel, how he got hooked in sharing his music to the world and Yuri shared how he felt after reading blog and magazine articles that involved his name — how he practically given birth to the designs that also spoke for the younger generation and not just the classy, sophisticated style that was usual to the _Nikiforov_ line. Otabek told him that he stayed in Russia for awhile and formed a band with two talented people when he was nineteen. They had gigs but due to a complication, Otabek had to leave the band and go back to Kazakhstan. The band was a two-man show now, and is still touring the local club scene. Otabek wanted to meet them while he was in Moscow if possible and Yuri was kind of torn between making Beka’s wish come true and keeping him all to himself. 

 

Yuri told him about his struggles when he was still an intern and how he practically saved the entire line because his boss decided to take his flirty self to Asia. He shared how gross the couple were but somehow, before Otabek’s steady gaze, he slipped and said he didn’t mind the couple — that he was even grateful that they were looking out for him. 

 

Yuri wanted to continue talking — he wanted to prove his worth that he can be Otabek’s friend again, never mind that he was feeling not only the butterflies but also the damn zoo in his stomach.  He wanted to brew them another pot of tea but Otabek’s eyes were getting droopy after getting no sleep due to jet-lag  and Yuri’s phone began chiming one after another. 

 

Time’s up.

 

Otabek wasn’t needed until later that day so Yuri sent him back to sleep. 

 

The blonde was blushing when he closed the door to his apartment — Beka insisted to get his number, _just in case you run away again._ He said before dropping like heavy lead on his pillow. Sasha even joined him for a nap and to his surprise, willingly walked into Otabek’s arms.. Yuri can’t help but snapping a candid.

 

_Damn everything._ He wanted to join them…

 

Yuri was still warm from talking with Otabek when he entered the venue. It was one of the biggest halls in Moscow, and as Yuri walked past the staff who were all busy in some form or another, his PA caught up with him and started talking like her life depended on it. He only nodded and gave answers automatically, his chest was still tingling and his brain wasn’t really working but _they should be thanking I’m still here. I could have shut the entire world and slept with Sasha and Beka instead — I wonder if the fold-out couch can accommodate us all…_

 

“Yurio!” He rolled his eyes and counted from one to three. Just when he was already five seconds into bolting out of the hall to go back home, they had to remind him he has work to do. Maybe he can pull off a _Viktor Nikiforov_ instead. Not that much, just a couple of streets and blocks instead of oceans and continents away…

 

“Yurio, glad that you’re finally here!” It was the Katsudon who said that. Yuri turned around to face the approaching muse and he found him wearing one of his track suits. _Hmm, looks like he was rehearsing his walk._ This season’s masterpiece did look quite difficult to show off. “Viktor and I were arguing about what LED background to use during your set. He wanted to use leopard printed hearts and pink glitters and roses and —”

 

“What the fuck, Viktor!” he yelled and dammit it felt good on his lungs. “What are you twelve?!”

 

And so the day passed with him alternating in fixing some last minute bead-work, stage supervision and baby-sitting his boss and his husband. Honestly, the last one was more tiring compared to the other tasks assigned to him. Still, while his body was automatic to respond to his duties, his mind would go back to the thought of Beka in his apartment — sleeping or playing songs on his guitar or even mixing some songs on the macbook he brought with him. Then his chest would go warm again like it did when he left his home. 

 

_Right, home._ Yuri thought, _you’re getting domestic._

 

But it was true… Home was a word Yuri associated with his grandfather and his cat. Now that there was an eighty percent chance that Otabek wanted them to be friends again, _home_ became a warmer thought — something that made Yuri want to look forward leaving work. He never really wanted to leave his office aside from going home to take care and pet Sasha. Of course he can bring her to their office, Viktor brings his poodle Makkachin, to work most days of the week. But unlike the canine, Sasha was not fond of strangers and would only end up helping in breaking coffee cups. 

 

The thought of going _home_ to Otabek though, Yuri felt his cheeks burning. A welcoming hug, a chest to rest his entire being on, arms that would hold him, conversations that would mean nothing and everything… Yuri wanted that. 

 

Yuri wanted that and Yuri knew he can’t have it. 

 

Of course, how can he wish for it when he was still trying to win Otabek’s friendship?

 

His hands itched to get his phone. Like it did every five minutes or so — _I feel like a fucking teenager!_ Yuri was waiting for Otabek’s text like a teen waiting for his crush to be online so he could try his chances only to have his heart broken.

 

“Yurio.” If anyone asked if he jumped at that, he would deny it to his grave. “What do you want, pig?” He asked while making it look like he was busy on his bead-work. He wasn’t day-dreaming about domestic shit, of course not. _That would be gross!_

 

The Katsudon didn’t say anything until he was seated beside Yuri. The blonde watched him indirectly as he picked a discarded ribbon and a pair of scissors. In fact, a couple of minutes passed and Yuuri didn’t utter a word but continued on cutting the ribbon into tiny pieces. The others  who were helping him on the bead-work, already five meters away from him, moved farther. As if refusing the inevitable front row seats they would surely have once Yuri opened his mouth.

 

“The fuck!” Because Yuri can’t stand silence like these. Unless your name was Otabek-fucking-Altin, Yuri would face confrontations like a bull on a red cloth. “Are you going to say anything? If not, I would prefer working alone. Where the fuck is Viktor? If he goes here and you two start being your usual gross self, I’ll fucking call it a day!” He left the part that wanted to leave because he wanted to spend the rest of the day with his friend. Who would blame him anyways?  He had three fucking years to catch up to.

 

“Do you?” The other Yuuri asked. 

 

Yuri stopped at that, “Do I, what?”

 

“Want to call it a day?” Snap. Another cut on the shortening ribbon.

 

“Who doesn’t?” Yuri went back to his work to get his hands on something, unless he wanted to grab his phone again for the nth time in an hour. “Everyone, of course.” Viktor’s husband smiled when he said that before looking over to the opposite end of the hall where his loved one was reviewing camera angles with the video production staff. And Yuri was reminded again what Viktor have that he doesn’t. “Everyone wants to call it a day, Yurio. But not you nor Vitya.” 

 

Yuri frowned at that. “If you’re going to continue talking in riddles, leave.”

 

The older man moved his dark eyes to look at Yuri again and the blonde would never admit that sometimes, when Yuuri looked at him like that — he would shrink like an ashamed kid. “You two are so alike. It would always be about work and fabric and designs except when there’s a promise at home. Viktor, I’m sure you know, is a busy-body.” Of course Yuri knew. He worked under him for years. The head-designer practically slept in the office before surprising everyone that he suddenly took an unannounced vacation to Japan. But now, Yuri saw that there was a balance in Viktor’s life — he knew when to stop and the blonde no longer had to remind him to go home or to rest because Viktor was more than willing to do so. 

 

Ever since Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov. 

 

“No matter how — affectionate Viktor and I get, you never willingly announced that you’re leaving early. You and Viktor — you guys are always the first to arrive and the last to leave when it matters.” Now, yes. Yuri was like Viktor in that sense.

 

_But three years ago, when it fucking mattered, I didn’t. I was the last to arrive and the first to leave._

 

“Do you like the deejay?” The question was so out of the blue that Yuri looked at the Katsudon like he was out of his fucking mind. “Where the hell did that came from?!” He yelled and he hunched closer to the cloth so much that his eyes were straining. 

 

“A wild guess. But judging to how shocked you were to see him yesterday and how Mr Altin seem to know you, I’m betting that you guys knew each other. So, is he an _ex_?” Yuri asked it so innocently that Yuri didn’t know how to respond to it until his cheeks got too hot. 

 

“Stop assuming things, asshole! And stop bothering me, go back to your husband and be gross or some shit!” Yuri was lucky that his infamous Rapunzel hair wasn’t tied. It served as a curtain from Katsudon’s hawk eye.

 

“But I can’t do that, Yurio. Viktor went to fetch Mr Altin from the entrance.” And suddenly the curtain wasn’t there because Yuri turned around so fast that he whipped his hair from hiding his face to halfway past his shoulders… “What?!”

 

The bastard had the guts to look like he didn’t know how many jumps he caused to Yuri’s usually unfeeling heart. “Viktor didn’t tell you? Otabek would deliver the demo he prepared for the show. The sample to the set he’s playing on the runway…”

 

Yuri reached for his phone, he didn’t notice that hours already passed, it was very much almost six in the evening. He also missed two text messages from an unknown number…

 

**_Yura? OMY to the venue._ ** _4:12 PM_

 

**_Okay, it’s either you’re very busy atm or I’m sending this to the wrong number._ ** _5:09 PM_

 

Just as he was about to type a response, the main entrance of the hall opened to reveal Yuuri’s husband and the guy that has been consistent in Yuri’s mind for the last three years and counting. Yuri watched him scan the venue like he was looking for something or someone and the blonde could practically feel that the model beside him was trying to continue cutting the smaller pieces of ribbon instead of turning around to call Yuri’s alleged _ex_.

 

“Don’t you fucking do anything pig or I would make true to my promise of shaving Viktor’s hair in his sleep. I don’t care if your house has a high-end security system.” Yuri whispered while he continued on watching as Viktor led Otabek to a technical booth. The model beside him just clamped his lips shut — assuring the younger designer of his silence.

 

Otabek handed his phone a technical staff before rescanning the venue… 

 

Then their eyes met and he felt more than saw his friend light up at the sight of the designer. Yuri felt guilty for not seeing his messages, _damn, just when I wasn’t expecting you to text, you fucking did._ He felt a little satisfaction when his young mind decided it safer to blame the Katsudon instead of his lack of mobile attention.

 

Otabek flashed him a thumbs up that Yuri can’t help but return — he even smiled at the blonde before he turned to talk to both Viktor, the director of the show and to the technical staff.

 

It used to be their thing. The _thumbs up_. When everything was a wreck backstage and Yuri was on a different part of the venue and he can’t wish Beka good luck or if it’s the other way around, they would send their wishes and luck in the form of that action. And experiencing it again, Yuri wasn’t sure how to react.

 

_Everything_ felt too normal. Too okay. And it felt like he was only waiting for the other shoe to drop and Beka would be packing his bags and leaving Yuri’s life for good this time — finally deciding that he was too good to be the blonde’s friend.

 

“So.” Yuri looked at the other guy and the smirk on his face was enough to pull the designer back to reality. “So what?” He asked.

 

“So, is he an _ex_ or…”

 

“Fuck, no! He’s not! Stop assuming things!” There he goes again. Fucking tiptoeing and whispering because his friend was in the premise. He doesn’t want Beka to hear the pig’s assumptions. For all he knows, Otabek could be repulsed of the comments that were coming out of Yuuri’s mouth. “Okay. He’s not. But do you like him?” _When will he stop questions?_

 

“Don’t you have anything better to do than interrogate people _who actually have something to do_?!”He asked. “My job is to practice walking on heels for the show’s master piece. I’m done with that. My next work won’t be due until Viktor’s done for the day. And besides, you didn’t answer my question. Do you like the deejay or not?”

 

Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov doesn’t bullshit when he doesn’t want to. Unlike his husband who played games to get the answers he’s looking for, the Japanese liked to get to the point and get it across. 

 

And damn, Yuri knew he was fucked and cornered.

 

Does he though? 

 

There was no question to the feelings he had for the Kazakh. Even three years ago, before things got too complicated for Yuri — he liked Otabek. More than he should. He liked that Otabek showered him with attention nobody else in the camp managed to have, that he offered a friendship beyond the campsite enough for them to Skype and chat and text everyday even if it wasn’t summer. 

 

Then Yuri started to feel different things that might or might not be considered as friendship. He ached to hold the musician’s hand, to be embraced by those arms that held a guitar so gently, to have the rights on those fingers that would sometimes braid his shoulder-length hair, to stare on those eyes without people questioning his motives and to take a kiss without fucking things up. 

 

So, if asked, Yuri’s answer would be, “Yes.”

 

The model’s eyes widen like he didn’t expect such an honesty from someone who was so used to getting out of personal questions in the form of vulgar words and insults half-meant.

 

“If _like_ is close to what you feel for Viktor, then yes. I liked - _like_ Beka.” 

Yuri was quiet when he confessed that. 

 

Because his heart was about to tear his fucking ribcage with how fast it was beating. He can’t help thinking about consequences of course. Like how Yuuri would tell Viktor and Viktor, with that heart shaped mouth, would tell every soul in the vicinity if he decided it would help things move faster then it would reach Beka and he’d find Yuri disgusting and he would leave and never —

 

“Yuri, what happened?” Yuri didn’t want to look at the model. Didn’t want to face the pity that might be there on his million dollar model face. “What do you mean with that question? Life happened. I couldn’t keep up. Otabek was the best friend I ever had. I was angry of the things I found out about my shitty family, and confused about the things I shouldn’t be feeling in a platonic relationship and I wouldn’t want to burden him with that.”

 

Yuuri didn’t say anything after that, just let the bass play off the venue’s speakers as the technical staff decide if Bass 1 was better than Bass 2. Honestly, it was the first time he shared about those things with anyone — but Yuuri had a way with him that made it okay for the young designer to share.

 

“I don’t think Otabek would mind though.” The model started and Yuri wanted to yell at him that he can’t know. Wouldn’t know. Otabek was his own person and even Yuri doesn’t know how his mind worked sometimes. But Yuuri said it with so much confidence that the blonde can’t say anything against him. There was an assurance in his words — maybe because Yuuri was older than him and therefore had enough romantic experience to know more about these things. Or maybe  it’s because he was married to Viktor, it would explain that his default setting was mushy. 

 

“Otabek seems to be the type of friend who’s going to be there for you no matter what. He doesn’t just befriend anybody and I’m sure the both of you are alike in that sense.” True, Yuri had a few friends but they were all loyal as fuck and they were all his. “You see Yuri, what you don’t see is that your friendship, your presence in someone’s life is a gift in itself.”

 

When the older man said that, Yuri looked at him with eyes as big as a saucer and cheeks burning ripe. Yuuri only laughed. “Oh come on, Yurio — I had to steel my spine so I won’t bolt out of the door when I first met you.” _Did he?_ Yuri thought. _I thought he looked fucking suave because he had  one of the world’s leading fashion designers in the palm of his hand._ “You looked like you wanted to rip my head off when I first met you and I’m not really good with strangers so I was trying to hide the fact that you used to make my knees rattle in fear.” The model gave out an embarrassed chuckle on that. “But I figured I wanted to win your friendship too. You mean so much to Viktor and he does see you as family and whoever is important to him is by default, important to me as well. Time passed though — after learning so much about you, you’re family to me too Yurio.”

 

Yuri was borderline overwhelmed. Viktor and Yuuri, they’re family to him too. It took time but they’re important to him too. So fucking much.

 

“So I guess what I’m trying to say here is that you’re worthy of any affection Yuri, and I’m sure Otabek saw that in you.” Of course. Of course the Japanese would see the heart to Yuri’s issues. “Whatever it is that happened that caused you two to separate ways, I’m sure you guys can salvage it. You just need to talk it out. Explain your sides and believe me, coming up into a mutual conclusion is a lot more better than waiting it out and overthinking about things, okay?”

 

He was a mess. He’s not good with the social bullshit that Viktor was so brilliant at and he’s not even directly in touch with his emotions like Yuuri was. He can’t show his thoughts directly and trust was something a person had to sell a limb to get from him. But can he really do that? He wanted to win Otabek’s friendship again. He wanted and craved it for years but if what Yuuri said was true about him and Otabek being alike, then in order for him to get the Kazakh’s trust again, he’d had to sell a limb out there.

 

_Fuck it, I’d willingly give my heart out, carve it out myself if I have to._

 

“Then, when you guys are done talking about it, the four of us can go on double dates.” And the statement made Yuri blush until his ears were red, enough that he was back from an emotional wreck and into his usual self. “ _God-fucking-dammit,_ this is why I don’t like talking to you!” He was saying it with so much conviction but even his Rapunzel hair won’t be able to hide his red cheeks from the entire world. 

 

“What’s wrong? I’m sure Otabek—” Yuri had to slam a hand to Yuuri’s mouth to stop him from saying anything else because Viktor and Beka were coming their way. “Don’t fucking say anything about what I just told you!” He said it as a plea and as a command. It doesn’t really matter, Yuri knew that the pig is going to tell his husband anyways, they did have the type of relationship that had no secrets in between. Yuri didn’t remove his hand until the model nodded him a confirmation.

 

“My, my, you two seem to have fun without me!” Viktor entered just when Yuri was dropping his hand back to his side. The silver haired man reached for his husband’s shoulders and squeezed before Yuuri looked up to him and smiled which the head designer immediately returned. Yuri, feeling the remaining emotions caused by his recent talk with the Katsudon, can’t find it in himself to act like his grossed out self — so he let them be and faced the other man instead. 

 

“Hey, I’m sorry I wasn’t able to reply. Got my hands full of this shit.” He gestured at the abandoned bead-work. Otabek just nodded and said “Glad to hear that you did not gave me a false number.”

 

“You’re staying in my house and hogging the attention of my cat, what reason do I have to not give you my fucking number?” Yuri asked with an arched brow. 

 

“Woah, you managed to tame Sasha? You’re more trustworthy than I initially thought you were.” Katsudon asked and Viktor sighed, “That’s why I prefer dogs — they’re not choosy with people and a lot more affectionate than cats…”

 

Yuri just rolled his eyes, too tired to debate about a topic he fought a million times already. Viktor can keep with his dogs and Yuri will stay with his more majestic cats.

 

“Compared to Yuri, I think Sasha is a lot easier to tame, so I didn’t have any trouble.” Otabek explained and Yuri hated how the model moved his gaze to him with a knowing smile. “Fuck, I’m not that difficult, am I?” Yuri asked and the look he received from all three was enough to shut him up, walk to his desk and gather his things. 

 

“Fuck you and you!” He pointed at Viktor and Yuuri, “And you —” Then Otabek, “Let’s go, I’m starving.” He turned around and quickly left the area, aware that Otabek said his farewells first before lightly jogging to catch up with him. In their friendship, Otabek had always been the more courteous one.

 

When the Deejay finally caught up, “Have you eaten yet?” Yuri asked as they descend the stairs that would take them to the primary level of the hall. “Not yet. I know you said to help myself in your kitchen but I wasn’t in the mood for arson.” Yuri had to laugh at that. “You still suck in the kitchen?” He remembered one of their video chats where Otabek showed him a minor burn on his palm when he tried cooking. Apparently, the cooking skills only ran on the female end of their bloodline. 

 

“Yeah, and I guess moving forward you’ll be in charge of the cooking.” Otabek said before speeding a little to get to the valet first. _What the fuck_. He sounded like he planned to stay for a while. 

 

When Yuri finally managed to slow down the beating of his heart and dammit, too much emotional unsteadiness on his usual unfeeling self was starting to be bad for his health. 

 

Otabek was waiting for him on a motorcycle, two helmets prepared.

 

“Um?” Yuri’s eyes widen at that. The vehicle was sleek, black and looked so cool that Yuri had to take a mental photograph — how Otabek looked mounted on top of it is of course not the reason why Yuri listed the scene as memorable. “You wanted one.”

 

Otabek wanted a motorcycle and he told Yuri that back in the campsite, through text messages, and video calls. Yuri, at first, refused. He didn’t want his friend to ride a death vehicle. Of course it looked cool and badass but people die because of motorcycle accidents all the fucking time. But Otabek, with his words, managed to get Yuri to agree that _yes, riding on a motorcycle is freeing._

 

“This is the only rental that was closest to the one I have at home.” Otabek extended the arm that was holding Yuri’s helmet and the blonde slowly extracted it from his hand. “I hope you don’t mind.”

 

“No, I don’t. Where are we going though?” Yuri asked as he examined the thing to see if it was really hard enough to prevent his brain from spilling all over the concrete in case of an accident. He shrugged it off, assuming how thick his skull was, _I guess my brain is safe._ “I actually don’t have a place in mind, what are you hungry for? Craving anything?” Otabek asked as he slipped the helmet on his head and started the engine. 

 

“Fuck just pass by the nearest Mc Donalds, I don’t care — just drive.” Yuri slipped his helmet as quick as he could before climbing to sit behind Otabek. 

 

Yuri initially placed his hands on Otabek’s shoulders, it was an unconscious action of steading himself when he climbed up and also as a sign of platonic respect. Otabek though has a different plan for the both of them. “It’s easier for you to hold on here.” Yuri strained to hear what Otabek said, but when the Kazakh pried his hands off his shoulders and placed it on his waist instead, Yuri was glad that he was placed behind him, his cheeks were burning again. 

 

It was the first time for Yuri to ride a motorcycle, he should have been terrified like that first time Otabek told him about it. But the air was cool and the lights of the city were nice, Otabek was in front of him and was shielding him from the harsher winds.

 

If Otabek really believed him when he said he was okay with even Mc Donalds, the nearest branch was still a few kilometers down the route they were taking. So Yuri placed a tighter hold on his _friend’s_ waist and tried to clear his thoughts. The things that happened three years ago, the number of missed text messages, video calls and the withdrawal of his summer camp enrolment, his grandfather’s face when he told him the news, the pining for a proper human connection this past few years and then the talk that he had with Yuuri. 

 

He’d rather enjoy the wind on his face and the warmth brought of Otabek’s body against his. 

 

**

 

They went home a few minutes before ten. There was never a dull moment and any quiet time was not awkward. Unlike what Yuri said about being okay with just Mc Donalds, they ended up buying a whole pizza to share between themselves and took turns in telling stories that happened when they were out of each other’s lives. Yuri can’t really remember having to laugh or talk so much with other people and Otabek was no different as well. The Kazakh said as much.

 

The awkwardness came back when they were walking to get to the apartment. It was an unnatural quiet that felt like someone had to say something. Anything actually because Yuri’s mind wasn’t really working properly and it made him think he was being walked home after a date that gone well.

 

Yuri opened the apartment, went in and trusted Otabek to follow and lock the door behind him. Sasha announced her presence and Yuri had to bow down to pet her as she rubbed herself on his leg before she meowed and walked over to do the same to Otabek. _She likes him_.

 

The blonde dropped himself to the couch and watched as Otabek picked Sasha up and brought her to his chest. “Is she really easier to handle than I am, Beka?” 

 

Somewhere along the few hours that they spent together, Yuri kept on slipping back to the nickname he called Otabek and the other man did not call him out for it. So when he did the same and called Yuri, _Yura_ , no one said anything. It made Yuri felt that he was asleep for the last three years — nothing was out place and everything was very much alike to how they were before their fall out. 

 

Otabek stared at him for a while before joining him on the couch. “A bit. Sasha trusted me after an overnight stay. You were harder than that Yura.” He sighed and followed Yuri’s slumping position, necks resting on the backrest and legs stretched.

 

Sasha happily maintained her puddle like position on Otabek’s stomach. 

 

“I can remember how nervous I was, on my way to this brilliant kid with the eyes of a soldier. You were standing in the edges of the party that was a usual slot for wallflowers… But you, you made it difficult to be labelled like that. With your blonde hair, stoic and guarded expression that froze anyone who dared to come near you. I’m sure you can remember how I asked you to be my friend and sounding like I was offering a business deal instead of friendship.” Yuri nodded at that. He was surprised to hear that Otabek Altin was asking to be his friend. 

 

“Sasha, can be wooed in so many ways. Treats, belly rubs… You were unpredictable Yura. I didn’t really think that you’d accept my offer seeing as I was a nobody while you can befriend anyone that you’d like. So…” A paused so long that Yuri had to look at his friend who never had a difficulty with looking for words because Otabek always knew what he was talking about. “So?”

 

There was a small smile on his lips and he seemed mesmerised with how his fingers comb through Sasha’s fur. “So you made me very happy when you agreed to be my friend.”

 

Yuri Katsuki-Nikiforov was right. They were the same.

 

He accepted Otabek’s friendship because to be honest, it was his first offer to be in one. Yuri knew he wasn’t the ideal person to befriend. He tends to work too hard that sometimes it was mistaken as arrogance,  he doesn’t entertain bullshit unlike most of the kids that surrounded him on a daily basis, and mothers hated him because apparently, he _swore_ too much. Yet the prodigy of the musical department walked up to him one campfire night and asked to be his friend. He grabbed the offer like it was lifeline. 

 

“Beka?” Yuri called and Otabek answered with a _hmm?_

 

“You’ve been here for more than twenty-four hours, why haven’t you asked me yet?” Yuri asked and he wasn’t sure why he did. But if Otabek faced his fear by talking to Yuri and offering him a friendship that could or could have not been rejected, Yuri can at least offer him an explanation to the _whys_.

 

“Asked you what?” Otabek asked. 

 

“Why I never answered your texts, or calls? Why I stopped my summer camps?” Yuri turned to properly look at Otabek while maintaining his position in leaning his head on the backrest. The musician continued to look at the ceiling, hands never ceasing on petting on Sasha.

 

“Yuri Plisetsky had the eyes of a soldier. Did you know that you were so majestic when you danced… But, most of the time, when you feel like no one was looking at you, you looked like you don’t love ballet. Like it was an innate talent you do because you can but not because you want to. So when we did that last video call, your eyes Yura. You were fighting a war and you were on the losing end. When you didn’t say anything, I respected that.”

 

Nobody said anything. And Yuri was so confused. How can he deserve someone so… So understanding. Otabek was someone he let go on the way of fixing himself. And yet, three years later, having to meet in a situation they never anticipated, Otabek was still so accepting of him to a level Yuri can’t understand. If this was done to him, if Otabek suddenly dropped him out of the blue without any explanation, Yuri would go berserk. No second chances. And that was the truth and it made him guilty because he doesn’t deserve someone like him. 

 

“Beka…” The Kazakh stopped looking at the ceiling and looked at Yuri instead. “You don’t have to say anything. I waited for three years. I can wait some more.” He said it so sincerely that Yuri had to shy away, but he fought the instinct to pull away. To run. Instead he rested his forehead on Otabek’s shoulder. “No, you deserve an explanation…”

 

“Yura, I…”

 

“My mom was a ballerina.” He started before he can change his mind and call it a night. But Yuuri was right, talking will be good for the both of them. If he wanted their friendship to continue, if he wanted to have anything close to what Yuuri and Viktor have with Otabek, he promised to show his heart. To pour out his thoughts. 

 

_No more secrets._

 

“She was known all over the ballet industry. I remember being five and staring at pictures of a lovely lady who posed with so much grace and pride. Then grandpa was letting me watch videos of ballet recitals, of behind the scenes where the lady continued to get up and dance. There was even one part of the video that she showed how bruised and damaged her feet were. A normal person would be repulsed, and yet I wanted to do that. I didn’t know she was my mother then.” Yuri moved to a more comfortable position, still slumped and close to Beka but instead of resting his head on the backrest, he rested it on Otabek’s shoulder. He stared at the television like it was playing the macabre memories of his past.

 

“When grandpa enrolled me to ballet in the summer camp, I admit that it was natural for me. But you’re wrong on one part Beka, I loved ballet just as much as I loved sketching. Grandpa was always happy whenever I danced or sketched something, and whatever makes him happy, made me happy. Years passed and my body grew and I wasn’t as flexible and as _natural_ as I was once upon a time. I’m a boy, so it was normal. But re-watching the videos of that lady, having so much grace and perfection, I guess it created a bitterness in me knowing that I would never be as great, never getting that acknowledgment or even having the chance of meeting her on the same platform.” Yuri guessed that it was the bitterness that Beka saw when he described that unhappiness in Yuri’s eyes.

 

“One day, I saw grandpa crying. It was heartbreaking to see tears on his face. This was a man who raised me like I was his own son. A man who was thrusted by a responsibility he shouldn’t get at that age. He was my rock and he was crying. When I asked him why… He… ” Yuri could feel his eyes forming droplets of tears. He didn’t want to cry.

 

All the tears were taken out from him when he knew about the news. Tears stopped appearing when he created one of too many barriers surrounding his heart because he didn’t want to be hurt like that again.

 

And then Beka was holding into his hand. Rubbing into his knuckles with his thumb in a silent plea to not force the words out of his mouth. To forget about the memories if it hurt him so much because even without explaining himself, Otabek will understand. 

 

Will always understand.

 

“You can probably imagine my surprise when grandpa pulled me into a hug and cried. He cried for a long time before gently saying that his daughter, _my mom_ died. Killed herself apparently. I couldn’t really understand it. So I asked him why she did it. Then he proceeded on telling me that she injured herself. Damaged her legs enough to withdraw her not only from the play she was to dance to but not giving her the body to continue doing what she loved. She was already depressed and I guess the removal of ballet from her was the last straw. So she pulled the trigger… Kicked the bucket, whatever.

 

“The funny part was, she had me when she was about to start her career, unknown father apparently. She can’t take care of me so she gave me to grandpa who did an excellent job in her stead. She never visited. Only sending the occasional monetary assistance or a short note that she loved me — bullshit. She can’t even remember my fucking name. But you know what really hurt? Is that, I wasn't even enough to go home too. I danced because I hoped I’d get scouted and meet her where she’s at her best instead of forcing her to go home. But no. I’m not worth that. I’m not worthy of her.” 

 

During his rant, Otabek leaned his head on top of his and Sasha, recognising the displeasure coming from her human, moved to his lap instead of the musician’s. 

 

“So, long story short, considering how I tend to self-destruct, I let go of ballet, withdrew from the summer camp and somehow, along the way of my selfishness, I let you go.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a hard time writing the chapter because there was too much angst. But to cover for that, here's a fan art of Yuri's snap of Otabek and Sasha. See you in tumblr, people.


	3. ILYSB

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And it all comes down to this.

The next day went by a blur.

 

Otabek and Yuri went to the venue together and proceeded with their respective work. Yuri supervising the ramp for his set and Otabek setting his booth at the centre of the stage. The blonde designer didn't really do much. Viktor, as the director of the entire fashion show made sure everything was perfect, down to the single confetti that will be released during his husband’s walk. It was the last day of rehearsal before the entire cast and staff take a day off and give their best for the show the day after that.

 

The models were given firm instructions on the line up as Otabek played the mix to each set. Each music mix had a different personality; each as unique as the designs that will be presented and the designers that created them. 

 

Yuuri was busy walking to and fro the stage, high heels no longer an issue as he spent most of his rehearsals mastering the damned things. The blonde would never admit it but the heels did enhance the beauty of Viktor’s masterpiece and did wonders to the Japanese’s legs. If that was a kink in between the famous fashion couple, Yuri wanted out of it.

 

His eyes went back to Otabek who was already focused on his deck since the time they entered the venue. Unlike Yuri whose issues currently showed on his face, the Kazakh seemed determined to bring additional spirit to the show by giving the best composition he had. If he was thinking about the talk they had the night before, he was showing none of it. 

 

The night before, Otabek held him in his arms as he unabashedly cried. He didn’t judge nor offered advice nor told him what he _could have done_. When Yuri stopped crying, Otabek still did not let him go, instead, shared stories from his childhood in Almaty. Shared his family tree and which uncle had more than enough pets. He shared memories about epic battles with kitchen utensils and jumping frying pans and stubborn weeds and pretty flowers that eventually, the shadow that claimed Yuri’s heart that day faded to the giggles that turned into stomach-hurting, jaw-dropping laughter. 

 

And still, Yuri woke up in Otabek’s arms late enough that it brought them to the awkward brunch.

 

Yuri, even after three years of separation from the Kazakh, never found a person who complimented him in all areas like the deejay did. He was pale and Beka was smooth tan. He was a moody ocean and the other was a steady, grounding earth. He was the anchor that stopped Yuri from drifting.

 

The DJ was wearing casual, some of the clothes he brought with him for the few days in Russia but on the day of the event, Yuri knew that Otabek was asked to wear _Nikiforov._ It was part of the job and Yuri wanted to offer his own set for Otabek’s choices but unfortunately, Viktor wanted the deejay dressed in an all white ensemble that the older designer made last minute. It was neutral but still good enough that he can join them in the red carpet before the show. Yuri didn’t really worry about it. He knew that his best friend will look good in any garb he chose.

 

It was a little easier to accept the fact that _yes, Otabek is fucking hot_ after he finally admitted to himself and to another person that he does feel for the other man and _no, it’s not friendship._

 

How good would it be if Otabek reciprocate his feelings?

 

_Like hell, in my fucking dreams._

 

It was easier to imagine Otabek in the red carpet garbed in his all white outfit with a lovely young lady hanging on his arm than the Kazakh being together with Yuri. He can’t help but imagine how ecstatic Mrs Altin would be if Otabek come home one day with the announcement of his union with a pretty girl. And of course, Yuri would end up being strong once more as he lived his years being the loyal best friend and will force himself to look at the couple without any malice. He was ready to do that and not speak about how he truly felt if it meant maintaining the friendship that they were beginning to patch up.

 

“Maybe you should take a picture, I’m sure it will last longer.” Smooth, charismatic voice. “Careful, Yurio, you might put holes on Mr Altin if you stare too hard.” Beside him, the head designer leaned on a chair with his hands holding the back rest.  

 

“Fuck off, old man.” 

 

“Aww, is that anyway to greet your father?” Viktor moaned as he rounded the chair he was leaning on to sit on it instead. “Kids these days…”

 

“You’re not my father and again, fuck off.” Yuri said before following the models with his eyes instead, conscious that Viktor will catch him staring at his best friend again. He didn’t see it, but he could feel that the older designer was grinning beside him but Viktor did shut up.

 

For about five seconds.

 

“But I can’t blame you though, Otabek is stare-worthy. So casual with his _tall, dark and handsome_ kind of aura, I won’t be shocked if girls and boys alike will be lining up for his hand. And he makes a brilliant deejay, his music is trendy and perfect. He’s also well mannered and was probably raised to be a gentleman. I mean, it shows. You should have seen how polite he was when Angela asked for his number, what a —”

 

“Wait, what? Who’s Angela and why did she ask for his number?” That caught his attention.

 

He knew that Viktor was looking for that exact reaction from him. But curiosity will always be one of his flaws. “Angela, she’s the model that will be opening the fourth set and assigned to wear Eros number nine on the second set. I heard that she was a fan and even attended one music festival when she knew he was part of the line up.”

 

Yuri raised a brow, denying the pang in his chest. Wasn’t it just five minutes ago when he thought about Otabek and a pretty young lady? _Who knew her name was Angela?_

 

“How the hell did you manage to get that when you’re busy commanding this chaos?”

 

“Yuuri was in the back stage.” 

 

“Of course.” Viktor can’t really function as a human being when he doesn’t have his husband in his immediate line of attention. “So he refused giving his number.”

 

Viktor nodded. “That and rejected her offer for coffee. Angela tried to point out that tomorrow’s an off day for everyone but Otabek answered that he was catching up with a _friend._ ”

 

Yuri blushed and hoped that his curtain of blonde locks managed to hide it from Viktor’s hawk eye. “My, my, Yurio you selfish little thing. You sure don’t want to share your Otabek, didn’t you?”

 

“I’m not his keeper and Beka can do whatever he wants.” The models were doing the full line up ramp and Yuri tried his very best to not glare when his model count concluded that the next girl, the one with the ash blonde hair was more or less, Angela. She was pretty.

 

“And with pet names?! Ooh.” Yuri rolled his eyes. “But Yurio, my dear kitten. Please tell your Otabek to ask for your parents’ blessings first. I and Yuuri will be disappointed otherwise —”

 

“Can you just fucking stop it already? Don’t you have better things to do?” Yuri replied, cheeks and ears flaming red. It was okay when he let himself day dream about the possibility of him being together with his best friend but at least at the end of the day, he has himself to stop before it gets into dangerous territory. Having both the Katsudon and the useless designer root for it was a difficult thing. Or should he say, _I don’t want to lead myself on further than this._

 

“My legs are locked and my feet will die if I do one more round of that catwalk.” Yuuri walked by before Viktor can reply to Yuri and the younger designer had to look back to the ramp. Yes, the rehearsals just ended and his best friend was talking to who Yuri assumed was one of the technical directors. “Please, Vitya, tell me that that was the final rehearsal set for today because I swear to whatever is holy, I can’t walk another step on high heels.” The Japanese dropped to the chair beside his husband before ungently placing his legs on the older lap.

 

Viktor didn’t even hesitate and started rubbing his palms on Yuuri’s legs in an attempt to help the model relax. “No more, my love. In a bit, I’ll have a company call and dismiss everyone. Are you hungry?” Yuuri just nodded. “Great! I was planning on inviting Yuri and his lovely musician to dine with us, what do you want to eat?”

 

“Woah, woah, woah, wait, what?” Yuri exclaimed and somehow after Viktor said that, the exhausted model perked up, “Great idea, puppy. Let’s get salmon.”

 

“Can you fucking stop ignoring me?” Yuri yelled and “I don’t even want to go to dinner with your gross asses.”

 

“Oh come on Yurio, don’t be mean. How else can we personally meet the person who captivated our son so bad if you’re not letting us get near him?” Viktor complained and Yuri wanted to bang his head on the table in front of him so bad if it didn’t mean leaving his grandfather all alone and Sasha minus an owner. 

 

Or Beka without a best friend.

 

“For the last time, you overdosed fuck, I’m not your son and you don’t need to meet the person who _‘captivated’_ me because I don’t have one.” Yuri was lying and judging from the identical smirk that the couple had, they knew too. 

 

**

 

Yuri could have done a lot of things.

 

He could have walked out after he announced that he did not have a significant other that Viktor and Yuuri had to meet. He could have dragged Otabek out of the venue and sneaked out when the director was doing his last company call of the day. But no. He didn’t do either of the emergency exits he had in mind and now he was stuck in a _cafe-bar-diner_ kind of restaurant that Viktor dragged all of them to. The atmosphere in the place was a far cry from the awkwardness that was surrounding the four of them. 

 

Yes, the head designer managed to drag Yuri and his best friend to dine with himself and his husband, Yuuri. Viktor ordered for all of them and in the duration of it, nobody said a word.

 

Otabek, who was an expert with the resting bitch face looked cool as a cucumber while awaiting for his food to come. Yuri, who knew the real motive behind the dinner was starting to get anxious and borderline, a nervous-wreck.

 

“So Otabek, I heard you stayed in Russia before?” Viktor asked before shoving a spoonful of mashed potato on his mouth. _Why don’t you just shove an entire bowl in your mouth so you would shut up?_ Yuri thought as he cut his steak with more force than he should. Otabek, unlike the animals that accompanied himself and Yuri, wiped his lips with a napkin before answering. “Yeah, when I was younger, my sister and I used to visit our grandparents here every summer. But three years ago, my mother decided to move my grans back to Kazakhstan so she can monitor them more closely.”

 

“It sounds like you have a big family.” Yuuri asked and Otabek nodded in reply. “My family back in Japan liked to stay in one home as well. It was crowded but definitely a lot more fun.” 

 

“Having my grandparents back home felt nice, but I did feel regretful when I have to quit the summer camp that I was attending here.” Yuri looked at Otabek. He never said about quitting the summer camp, Yuri assumed that he only resigned when his age got to the point that he could no longer be supported by the coaches that taught in the summer camp. 

 

“So aside from the summer visits, you never lived here for a longer term?” Viktor asked. Sometimes, Yuri was thankful that his boss was very talkative. It saved his ass for more than one occasion when one client was being too nosy and a vile comeback was coming out of his mouth. The head designer would sweep in with his shining, silver mane and save the client from a cruel script that would no doubt, cripple their business. But unlike the suave rescue, the conversation was focused on Otabek too much that it felt like an interrogation. 

 

Maybe he wasn’t really subjected to this kind of situation before and it really felt like he was a kid dining with his parents and having them to meet a long term boyfriend. 

 

“I did, when I was nineteen. I was helping my grandparents with their move, so while they ease to cutting ties, I stayed with them and eventually managed to live here for a year.” Yuuri and Viktor had to look at Otabek when he said that and even Yuri stared at him weirdly. The deejay only smiled, “They were very friendly with the people around them and had a business in the neighbourhood. It took time in closing the contracts they had with clients and had to reroute the address for some of the insurance and other paperwork notifications.”

 

“What about school though?” Viktor asked, “I had to take a year here.”

 

“Woah, it must be hard. Being a foreigner in a school. When I moved here, I had a hard time coping with some of the people in the agency and I wasn’t really obliged to talk with them, but it must be difficult to cope in an environment where being social was key in surviving the educational jungle.” The Japanese replied. 

 

Yuuri Katsuki moved to Russia when he got engaged with Viktor. Yuri knew that the Japanese, who only knew how to speak English and Japanese before had a hard time coping with the industry that his husband ruled. The dog-eat-dog mentality in the modelling industry could have choked him to death, especially with the rumour mill about him only being accepted because of his fiancé. But for some reason, the Japanese survived and was now one of the notable supermodels both in Russia and Japan.

 

“Not really. People in school, for some miracle, respected my space but eventually I managed to build a social background. It was enough that I even formed a band. But that didn’t last long.”

 

“So, when you said that you left the band, was it because you had to move back to Kazakhstan?” This time, it was Yuri who asked. He did know that Otabek had a band in Moscow, but he never really expounded on that matter. Otabek didn’t answer right away, instead, he stared at Yuri for a couple of seconds before shying away to look at his plate. “Something like that.”

 

“Did you make good music though?” Yuuri asked. “We did.”

 

“Aww, then it’s too bad that you guys had to disband. With how you make your songs, I believe that you and your band could make it big.” Viktor moaned. The model and the blond designer had to agree. Otabek was good with his music, and with two more talents, he had the chance to go bigger than his current status.

 

Otabek just smiled and went back to eating his food. 

 

Viktor and his husband were good at this. Easing the awkwardness into a conversation where the entire group can participate in. 

 

Somehow, the lull in conversation wasn’t as uncomfortable as it was before Viktor started opening his mouth and the four went back to eating in silence. From time to time, one of them would look at the restaurant staff that seemed to prepare a stage of a kind. 

 

“Is it an open mic tonight?” Yuuri asked his husband who only looked up and shrugged — too engrossed in eating his steak to manage a proper reply. “This restaurant holds an acoustic night or sometimes, even an open mic evening. It’s pretty random though so we can’t really pin down if it’s a weekly thing or not.”

 

At the mere mention of something close to music, Otabek brightened. It wasn’t obvious, but for Yuri who was observing him for quite some time and known him for years managed to see it like a bright candle in a dark room. “Do you think the band will be here soon?”

 

“Careful with the enthusiasm there Beka, I can almost see your tail wagging.” Yuri answered with a teasing smile. 

 

It was a refreshing sight. 

 

Unlike the awkwardness and almost cool interaction they had in the two days they had together, this was the first time Yuri saw this type of happiness from his friend. And the blond can’t help but tease him about it. _It’s what friends do, right?_

 

“He likes music, sue him Yurio.” The Japanese countered with a roll of his eyes. Viktor had to laugh and the young blond only answered with the rise of one of his middle fingers. “I meant to ask, why Yurio?” 

 

The three looked at the Kazakh before staring one another down. “Don’t remind me.” Yuri answered and he knew he didn’t give a proper answer. “Well, we can’t have two Yuri’s running all over the place, so this kitten here was renamed Yurio.” Viktor answered and Otabek had to nod before looking at the blond again, this time, with a smirk.

 

“No,” Yuri answered with his usual glare. “You’re not allowed to call me that.”

 

“It’s a cute pet name.” Otabek answered and Yuri could feel his face doing a blush overdrive. Not only that, but the young designer could practically feel the curios look the couple beside them were giving. “I don’t give a fuck. But you’re not allowed to call me that. Don’t join the dark side. They’re all insane there.” He said while pointing at the Katsuki-Nikiforov pair. 

 

Otabek just shrugged, “I don’t need to. I have my own nickname for you. Isn’t that right, Yura?”

 

Viktor actually squealed. Yuri was blushing hard and the Japanese had the gal to smirk.

 

“Oh my god, sh—shut up.” Yuri answered. He wanted a cooler counterattack than that but what Otabek stated was true. He did call Yuri _Yura._

 

“Now, now kids. You’re both still young. And Otabek, sweetheart, remember to ask for our permission first before officially dating our son, okay? As his parents, we are entitled to the relationships that our baby boy is committing.” The model answered with finesse that rivalled his catwalk.

 

“That’s true! But you might also want to talk to his grandfather as well.” Viktor added and now the to boys were officially blushing together.

 

Yuri blushed with an angry red and Otabek with a more reserved pink flush. “Can you two stop assuming things?!” Yuri yelled and he could only do so much to not pour the entire steak sauce down the annoying couple’s throats. “But Yurio —”

 

“Oh my god, Otabek Altin?!”

 

Four heads turned to see a young woman holding what can only be guessed as a keyboard case. She was pretty with a sparkle in her eyes. She stared for a bit before releasing herself in a hop as fast as she could with a keyboard case and backpack. Behind her followed a young man, gloomy with eyeliner filled lids and a guitar case strapped on his back.

 

“I can’t believe it!” Yuri watched as she leaned down and actually gave Otabek a hug. It lasted longer than Yuri believed was acceptable for a friendly one. _He didn’t like it_. “Are you back in Russia for good?!” The girl stood back, eyes still sparkling with something the blond refused to acknowledge. Meanwhile, the guy with the eyeliner gave his best friend a tap on his shoulder in which the Kazakh nodded in acknowledgment. “You should have let us know, man. We could have met earlier.”  
  
Otabek stood up and tapped the guy’s shoulder as well, “No, um, I have a gig here and had to stay for a couple of days. I was looking on how to contact you guys actually.”

 

Yuri zoned out after that. Otabek kept on talking with them and he can’t help but assume that these two might be one of those who befriended the deejay when he stayed in Russia. It was okay, he get the the Kazakh had friends over the years and did not spend the last three years wondering how a certain blond was doing.

 

What bothers Yuri though was how the young lady was staring at his best friend. The sparkle did not stop and it only seemed to amplify the longer she looked at Otabek. _Something’s not right._

 

“I’m sorry, I was being rude.” Otabek turned to them again and faced Yuri and the couple. “These are Mila Babicheva and Georgi Popovich, my bandmates when I stayed here in Russia.” At the introduction the girl, _Mila,_ deflated for a bit. “Guys, these are Viktor Nikiforov and his husband, Yuuri Katsuki. And here,” Otabek played a hand on the back rest of Yuri’s chair, “Is my best friend, Yuri Plistesky.” 

 

At the acknowledgment of their friendship, Yuri felt his chest tighten and somehow eased the awkward anger he had with the girl who stared too much. _I’m still his best friend, that’s cool._ It was bittersweet, _I’m cool with that._

 

“Do you guys want to sit down for awhile? I’m sure those instruments are heavy.” Yuuri greeted as Viktor called for a server to bring a menu and additional chairs. Yuri glared at the Japanese. He didn’t want the girl to stay for too long and the model wasn’t helping. Yuuri only gave him a reproachful look that could or could have not translated as ‘don’t be rude’.

 

Otabek didn’t sit back down.

 

“No, um. We’re really not sitting down, thanks for the offer. We’re actually about to go on stage after 10 minutes.” Georgi, the guy with the eyeliner answered. “You’re playing tonight?” Otabek asked and the enthusiasm that Yuri saw earlier was back on his face. And it stung.

 

“Which reminds me, why don’t you join us for a couple of songs, Otabek?” Mila asked and Yuri wanted to voice out, _No Beka!_

 

“Um,” He looked at Yuri for a couple of seconds before moving the look to the couple, “I have company.”

 

“No, no — don’t mind us, Otabek.” Viktor replied at the same time as his husband said, “Perhaps you can indulge us with a couple of songs at least?”

 

Yuri can see that he was torn, but he looked at the blond like he was asking permission. “You don’t mind do you? Just a couple of songs?” Otabek asked. 

 

Again, Yuri wanted to decline. But Otabek had this brightness in his eyes that he missed.

 

“No, go ahead.”

 

“Great!” Mila exclaimed and immediately, Otabek assisted her with her keyboard and accompanied her to the stage leaving, Yuri and the rest to stare at their leaving backs.

 

“Man. Mila still have it bad.” Yuri heard Georgi whisper. 

 

His mind was undergoing a storm of thoughts and he wanted to ask and ignore it at the same.

 

 _Thank god for Viktor. “_ They seem to be really close.” Viktor stated and there was a hidden question to it that tensed Yuri. Honestly, he didn’t really want to know.

 

“They have to be, or else the months they had as a couple would have been awkward.”

 

An ex.

 

It was not the right time to be jealous of exes. Yuri just reclaimed his seat as the Kazakh’s best friend. He wasn’t ready on feeling jealousy regarding exes. Actually, he doesn’t even have the right to feel jealous. 

 

“Why did they broke up though? She seems to be a nice girl.” The model claimed and Georgia agreed. Yuri knew what Viktor and Yuuri was doing. They were digging for answers to questions Yuri had no right to react to. “She is, but the break up was a mutual decision. It didn’t work out but that didn’t mean she was over him.” He stated that on a daze before realising he just tattled about his friends’ love life without knowing.

 

It wasn’t his fault though, he was talking to the Nikiforov-Katsuki pair and before their combined charisma, many can’t really keep their tongue to themselves. “Excuse me, we need to go and prepare for the night.” Georgi excused himself and scrambled to get to the stage, as if that would make his answers go away. 

 

In the meantime, as Georgi neared the stage, Yuri watched as Mila whispered things to Otabek that made the Kazakh smile and reply. 

 

The ache multiplied. _Maybe Beka isn’t over her too._ Yuri thought, _he did mention that he was interested on meeting his bandmates again._

 

She had fiery red hair the curled just right, and pretty, sparkling eyes that shined whenever Otabek granted her with his attention. It was clear what the two of them had and like what Georgi said, she wasn’t over him yet. 

 

Yuri didn’t stop looking at them even until the whole stage was set up and Otabek was sitting behind the keyboards, Georgi had his guitar on his lap and Mila was adjusting the mic while seated on top of a beatbox. Yuri, like some of the people inside the store, had their attention to the group. “It looks like they’re a good bunch,” Vikto claimed, “People are already tuned to them.”

 

“Good evening ladies and gents,” Mila greeted before tapping three times on her box and starting a beat in which Otabek and Georgi joined to, “I hope you’re having a great time. Tonight, we have an old friend to accompany us on a couple of songs. He was one of the best people Georgi and I had the luck to work with and I’m personally happy to have him on stage with us again. The first couple of songs are original songs that Georgi and I made, y’know, the usual. And later on, that handsome guy over there will be singing some original songs he composed for the band, right Otabek?”

 

Some of the audience chuckled at her and Otabek just bowed his head and smiled. 

 

_God fucking dammit._

 

“Otabek seems to like being on stage, don’t you think?” Yuri heard Viktor whisper to his husband and he had to agree. Otabek does love his music.

 

Yuri does too, he can relate to music as well. But he didn’t play music, nor sing, nor compose lyrical shit unlike this _Mila_ can. He can’t relate to this part of Otabek unlike his ex can. 

 

When Mila sung, it was sad. 

 

Yuri kind of hoped her voice sucked. Of course that would be impossible, Beka will never join a group that can’t reach his standards as a person or even as a musician. Mila was singing her heart out and the lyrics hurt Yuri. 

 

It was about a person you love unconditionally. Young love, unfair circumstances and lost chances.  To anyone who knew about Mila’s history with love, it was possible that she composed the song while thinking of an ex lover whom she loved but had to let go. When she sung the chorus, sometimes she looked at Otabek  but the guy was focused on his keyboards and in rare moments, looked at the crowd — looked at Yuri who can’t bring himself to return the gaze.

 

_In another life_

_I would be your girl…_

 

_In another life_

_I would make you stay…_

 

In rare moments that Yuri had to remove his eyes from the stage, he peaked at the Nikiforov and Katsuki pair, silently hoping that they were at their gross selves so he had the reason to rant and cause chaos to distract himself from the train-wreck on his chest. But no, aside from the arm Viktor had across at the back rest of his model-husband, there were no overly disgusting public affection that was going on. 

 

 _Fucking Mila was begging for a chance._ Yuri or anyone who had enough brain cells would know what the song was about. Again, lost chances.

 

The next song was a little bearable, but that didn’t mean the obvious flirtation was toned down. It was more lively compared to the previous song.

 

_He’s so tall and handsome as well_

_He’s so bad but he does it so well…_

 

_Say that you’ll see me again_

_In your wildest dreams…_

 

Yuri wanted to leave but in the game of wills, he refused to stand back. He listened to the rest of the song like his feelings were thrown in a blender. There was anger, jealousy and of course, insecurity. 

 

He knew he didn’t have the right to be jealous. He was a friend and Mila had a more intimate relationship with Otabek whether it was in the past or not. And seeing the both of them on stage, playing their hearts out Yuri knew he can’t level to this kind of mutual creativity. 

 

Viktor and Yuuri were in no doubt trying to dissect what was before them like the nosy shits they were. But conversations on their table was held off. 

 

In no time, Mila finished her song and there was a lull on the music. “I think it’s about time for my friend here to take over, don’t you think?” She said and the crowd cheered. “Alright then,” Otabek started on his keyboard, Mila on her beatbox and Georgi on his guitar. “Take it over, Otabek.”

 

The song, like everything that Otabek does was heartfelt. 

 

It was about being left behind and it tweaked Yuri’s heartstrings — bringing guilt as seasoning to his blended emotions. The song was asking for the one leaving to stay, to come back. Yuri knew he was biased, but it was obvious that Otabek had the upper hand to their band before. His songs are more… _Relatable._

 

_I need my current location_

_To be your current location, fly back to me…_

 

_Don’t make me look stupid_

_For waiting just to lose you_

_Love me, can you prove it?_

 

When the song ended, Yuri clapped his hands along with the audience unconsciously. Until the time when he sneaked on Beka singing in his living room, Yuri never heard Otabek sing in the earlier years of their friendship. He did most of the instruments, but the Kazakh never mentioned of ever having the talent on singing.

 

The next song was the type of lyrical that would make the heart flutter. Enough that Viktor pulled Yuuri to his side more tightly when the blond peaked. 

 

It was full of emotion and almost like an obsessive confession but probably the type of love that people would sell limbs to experience. It was akin to what Yuuri and Viktor have. The like Yuri wanted to have…

 

All the anxiety that Yuri had during the first couple of songs faded away, his heart relaxing at Otabek’s voice so much that he actually found himself swaying to the beat. 

 

The fluttery emotion went back when Otabek sang a specific part of the song and looked at Yuri when he did.

 

_And you need to know_

_You’re the only one, alright_

_And you need to know_

_That you keep me up all night, all night_

 

_Oh my heart hurts so good_

_I love you, babe_

_So bad, so bad_

 

There was heat on his eyes when he stared at Yuri when he sang the lyrics and the blond didn’t want to overthink. But he can’t let go of the gaze either.

 

**

When the session finished, the claps delivered and the audience went back to their dinner and companions, the three musicians walked back to the table and before Yuri knew it, Otabek was right beside him.

 

“I’m sorry it took us some time.” Otabek apologised and the couple waived it off. Yuri felt a tap on his shoulder that made him look up, “Ready to go home?” There was blush on the deejay’s cheeks and Yuri contemplated that it was either the heat from the stage or the feeling of happiness that came into his friend when he performed.

 

“Um yeah. You did good out there.” Yuri answered and graced his friend with a subtle smile. He stood up and the couple across him did the same. Otabek grabbed his jacket along with Yuri’s coat.

 

“Otabek, when are you leaving for Kazakhstan? It would be nice to see you again.” Mila asked and Yuri, with all the things he hated with the red head, hated the small hand that was on Otabek’s arm. “Or at least give me your number so we can have gigs like this soon? Or to at least talk?” 

 

Everybody in their circle knew what Mila was doing and Yuri wanted her to just stop. 

 

But like her songs, Georgi’s comment about her, _fuck even the katsudon thought she was nice._

 

Otabek though, with a hesitant smile moved Mila’s hand off his arm. “It would be nice but I’m going back to Kazakhstan soon. And with the show that’s coming up, I don’t really have any extra time.” With how his words go, anyone’s heart could have been broken. But Otabek had a way with saying it that smoothen out the rejection. Yet, Yuri didn’t like the frown that grew on her face. 

 

_It felt like looking at the mirror._

 

Will he look the same if he admitted to his best friend that he likes him more than a friend?

 

That like before, he wanted more. 

 

_Maybe it would hurt more. If I admit that I like him, I would lose more than my heart… I’d lose him again._

 

They left the cafe just when Mila and Georgi went back on stage. 

 

Unlike the trip they had going to the store where Viktor insisted that the younger designer ride with him and his husband instead of jumping on Otabek’s bike, Yuri joined Beka on his walk to where he parked his bike. 

 

It was nearing midnight and the people on the streets were fewer. It would be nice to talk without the noise of the buzzing city but Yuri, who was lost in his thoughts kept his mouth shut. Otabek respected that. 

 

Otabek used to have an unlimited patience but seeing his friend dwell in silence for more than five minutes, he initiated the conversation. “Penny for your thoughts?”

 

“Mila’s a nice girl.” As soon as he run the words in his mind, Yuri wanted it back. He didn’t mean to say such a direct statement. And he peaked a look to Otabek to see how he took the phrase. The Kazakh though, still with his resting-bitch-face and hands on his pockets, shrugged and said “Georgi talked, huh. I guess, she is. Will always be I think.”

 

To hear Georgi and Yuuri admit to that was different, but hearing Otabek admit that he still find his ex _nice_ cracked a line on Yuri’s already battered heart. “Yeah. She’s pretty too. And if she really wrote those songs, then she’s fucking talented. Her voice is also tolerable and doesn’t aggravate my ears too much like how Viktor does sometimes —”

 

“Yura, what are you trying to say?”

 

“Why did you two break up?” Yuri rushed like he was given his last five minutes on earth and he had to ask all the questions he had on his mind before he was taken. But he meant his question and wanted to have it answered.

 

He didn’t have the right to claim Otabek as his, but the feeling of being threatened, of being so unstable with his position to be beside the Kazakh was drowning him. Maybe it was jealousy or it was insecurity but Yuri wanted it out of his system. And if it took another crack on his heart then so be it. He’ll live. Hopefully.

 

Beka, smooth fucker that he was, shrugged. “We only got together because she insisted to give it a try. But months after that, her feelings for me grew but mine didn’t.”

 

“What feelings?”

 

Otabek stopped walking and actually looked at Yuri for awhile. 

 

“I was still hung up on someone. Technically, when we got together, I wasn’t over my first love yet. Cheesy, I know.” He started walking again and Yuri felt his legs doing the same. “I only agreed to try dating her because I thought it would be nice to give her a chance and perhaps finally have the courage to let go of the love that was unreciprocated.”

 

Great, so Mila wasn’t the obstacle. “And were you?”

 

“Was I what?” Otabek asked. “After a couple of years, were you over this first love.” Yuri was curios. Who could be this person who enthralled his best friend for years?

 

Otabek looked at him again and smiled. A pink flush tinting his cheeks. 

 

 _Shit, what if he’s committed now?_ “I tried. I really did. But I guess if I dwell on it, really think about my feelings now… No I’m not. Funny, right? Maybe in another universe, Mila would be enough. She’s a nice, pretty lady and could have made any guy proud to be claimed by her. But I wasn’t doing her justice. She deserves more than an asshole who wasn’t over someone else.”

 

If there was anything that night that really damaged Yuri’s heart, _I guess this is it_.

 

The blow left him a little breathless. It was punch to the gut. More than the thought of Viktor knowing Yuri’s feelings, more than the ex and her fucking songs. _Beka was in love with someone else._

 

The thought made him stop walking. 

 

He was overwhelmed. Thoughts of how Beka took care of him, how the ex looked at his friend, how Beka stared at him when he thought that the blonde wasn’t looking… He was lost in a world where red and green interchange constantly, a place that mixed signals was usual.

 

Can he even keep the friendship if it meant that he would need to spend the rest of his life crushing his heart by loving someone who will never return his feelings?

 

“Yura,” He looked, and Otabek was so handsome underneath the yellow glow of the lamp post. “I… I know that we just got the chance to rebuild the friendship that we neglected but, I waited years. I should have told you earlier, but three years ago I thought we had all the time in the world to settle deeper into each others lives. I was a coward, I admit.”

 

Yuri felt like his heart was undergoing an overdrive. 

 

“But, seeing you again after three years — still as beautiful as the day I last saw you; singing songs I’ve written years ago when my heart was longing for you, I don’t think I can live another minute without you knowing.”

 

Yuri’s eyes widen when he heard Beka saying it. _He doesn’t mean…_

 

“I think these feelings for you won’t be gone for a long time now that I have you near me again.”

 

Yuri watched him move. Stepped closer than usual, so close that the ends of their shoes were almost touching. His heart was drumming quakes on his chest as Beka leaned in to his right. 

 

The words Beka whispered reflected the last song he sung. And after the cracks he caused on Yuri’s young heart, he mended it anew.

 

The warmth that spread all over his body may be caused both by how Beka whispered feelings to him and how he nodded in agreement and how tight the hug was when Otabek enclosed his arms around him.

 

Or how Yuri returned each gesture with his own whispered words and willowy arms.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry folks, the fashion show ended in a success.
> 
> I'm sorry that I have to cut this short, I was planning on an epilogue but I lost some words somewhere. Hopefully when I can reclaim my inspiration, I can finish my epilogue. Anyways, see you. Until next level! Davai!
> 
> P.S: This was unbeta'd.
> 
> Songs:  
> The One That Got Away - Katy Perry  
> Wildest Dreams - Taylor Swift  
> Current Location and ILYSB by LANY


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